The Hetalian House of Night
by kagschannold
Summary: Matthew Williams has fears. Everyone does. But the thing he fears most at this point in his life is being Marked. a Hetalia take on the House of Night. Strictly Hetalia characters however. Rated M for later.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

**This is experimental. Please don't flame me for any hiatus. Because most likely, that will happen. **

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><p>Matthew Williams settled into his bed, snug as a bug with his bear wrapped tight in his arms. Alfred was still awake, as always, talking obnoxiously loud on the phone to Arthur about the scary move he'd just watched. Having grown up with the American his whole life, Matthew knew that his brother plus horror flicks equaled… utter chaos.<p>

Smiling, Matthew removed his glasses, and stretched comfortably beneath his warm blanket. Within seconds, he was asleep.

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><p>There was darkness… nothing but pitch black, other than being able to see himself. Matthew looked around the abyss-like environment, rubbing his eyes just to make sure that his dream wasn't, well… broken. Matthew laughed, which ultimately turned into a gasp when his breath came out in a crimson vapor. It was fascinating really, and Matthew couldn't help but blow out some more. The vapor swirled around his head like little ringlets, tickling his cheeks.<p>

Matthew could honestly say that none of his dreams had ever been like _this_ one.

After the ringlets of crimson disappeared, Matthew sighed, and slid forth his left foot. Like a trigger, a cloud of dust puffed up, and around him. He coughed, sputtered, and when the dust fell like rain to the black floor, it turned crimson, like his breaths. Matthew adjusted his glasses, and blonde brows furrowed together in confusion.

_Interesting_.

One more shift of his foot, and the crimson on the floor slithered, and found its way in between his toes. Was this _paint?_ No. It couldn't be.

Matthew bent forwards, and brushed his fingertips along the liquid. With his fingers, he drew intricate patterns in it, then bringing them up to his eyes to get a better look. The smell of iron, bitterness… and the thickness confused him even more. Matthew measured that crimson liquid in between his index finger and thumb.

"What is th-"

Then, it slapped him in the face. The realization of just _what_ this _questionable_ liquid was printed its name in his brain, bringing him an indescribable fear in the pit of his stomach.

"Bl-blood!" He shrieked.

Frantically, Matthew wiped his hand across pajama pants, but paled when the blood would not go away. Instead, it flowed, and trickled slowly down his forearm. Matthew was so scared, that he wanted to cry. His breath came in short pants, exasperated, and terrified. He had to wake up… he had to wake up!

"Do not be afraid, child." an ominous, although beautiful voice echoed from behind the Canadian blonde.

Matthew jumped, losing his glasses, and almost slipping onto the bloodstained floor. He was still breathing hard, almost too hard. Why was this happening to him?

"The blood will not hurt you."

"Who-who… who a-a-are you?" Matthew's voice was not his own, at least, not from what he remembered. A new feeling was starting to fill him, and that was almost as terrifying as the new being standing in front of him.

Matthew's eyes widened at the sight of a mirror image. He stared into it, not quite sure where the mirror had come from. All Matthew knew, was that he was staring at _himself_, but at the same time…

"I'm who you _want_ to be."

"N-no… I don't…" Matthew's tears were falling now, and he struggled with the ability to stand. Why did the person in that mirror that looked like him look so… not?

"Taste the blood on your hands, Matthew."

"You're not real!"

"I'm as real as you are. Now…" the reflection stepped out of the mirror, clasping ice cold fingers around a frail wrist.

Matthew gasped.

The creature standing over him was nothing like he had ever seen before. They were marked with intricate tattoos along their foreheads, and extending to their neck. Eyes, a deeper violet than those Matthew was familiar with, dilated, and captured Matthew with an inescapable bond. Matthew couldn't move, not even in the slightest. He was stuck there with no way of knowing whether or not he was going to live…

"Taste the blood and become what you are destined to be."

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><p>"LET ME GO!" Matthew screamed, shooting upwards in his bed, clutching the covers to his neck while he breathed a heavy breath, as if life itself depended on it.<p>

His eyes wide open, Matthew could see blurs of everything in his bedroom. From the giant Canadian flag on his ceiling, to the cluster of hockey sticks standing in the corner next to his closet. Matthew patted for his glasses, which he knocked off the nightstand. Inwardly, Matthew cursed himself, and leaned over the other side of his bed to search for his eyes.

However, the lump next to him wiggled, and Matthew sucked in.

"Nnnnnghhh." Another voice moaned.

Without even thinking, Matthew wrapped his fingers around the Maple Leafs alarm clock next to his lamp and brought it down onto the head of the wiggling thing beside him.

"Fucking hell!" it shouted, sitting up as well, and almost falling off the bed.

Matthew rubbed his eyes, still holding the alarm and preparing himself for another attack. Matthew shook his head when he realized _who_ the _thing_ was.

"Al! What are you doing in my bed!"

Alfred, who had taken it upon himself to crawl into his twin brother's bed, glared, then shifted his expression into one so pitiful, "I… I… wanted to make sure you w-were safe tonight."

"What are you talking about, you hoser, get the _hell_ out!"

"Mattie! Please! I think there's something awful in my room!"

"Ever stop to think that maybe it's your dog?"

Alfred did stop to think, but for only two seconds, before wrapping his arms around the blonde in front of him. Matthew groaned.

"I heard you whimpering in your sleep, Mattie."

"Wh…wha?"

"Did the movie scare you too?"

Matthew pushed Alfred a little, "That's it… I'm confiscating your horror movie collection in the morning and sending them all to Arthur."

Alfred sighed, and snuggled back down into his brother's much too puffy, but comfortable pillow. It was obvious the American was not going anywhere.

Matthew shrugged, shaking his head. Maybe it was _good _Alfred was going to sleep with him.

Maybe it was good, considering Matthew didn't want to be alone either.


	2. Chapitre Un

**Hetalian House of Night**

**This is just a little idea that I had in my mind thanks to reading the H.O.N. books. It won't have any of the characters from the books. So, I guess… I'm not sure. It's the Hetalia version.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

"A dream?" Arthur said through the phone, sounding groggier than normal.

Matthew nodded, although knowing that his English friend wouldn't be able to see the gesture. Matthew sighed, "Do you think I'll be Marked too?"

"Not sure. That is a very peculiar dream you had. Anyone would have the same suspicion, Mattie. If you are, just hope you're going to attend the same House of Night as us." Arthur told him, knowing that the Hetalian House of Night was not the only House of Night around the Canadian.

Arthur had been marked three years ago, making him a Fifth Former in school. He was brilliant, and was exceptionally good at Fencing. Which, if Matthew spent a little more time thinking about it, was rather odd. Arthur as a fencer?

"I don't know if I want to be Marked. That would mean changing my whole life and I'm not… I don't-"

Arthur laughed, "Really, there is nothing wrong with it, Matthew."

"Don't you miss your family?" Matthew asked then.

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Arthur sat there for what seemed like an eternity. It was a good, no _great_ possibility that Arthur would never see his family again. The Change had not been completed through him, and Matthew knew as well as anyone that Arthur was one of the vampyres who feared death. The day Arthur was marked, his whole family acted as if he'd gotten the plague, and that it was highly contagious. Not to mention the stereotypes being thrown into the air that Arthur was now a blood hungry, flesh eating monster.

Arthur was not a monster, and he was perfectly fine the way he was.

"I miss them." Arthur said lowly.

Matthew scanned the room around him, listening to the off-key singing that was coming from the upstairs bathroom. Alfred was awake, and if he knew that his twin was talking to _his_ best friend… well… the conversation would become awkward. He couldn't tell his brother about the dream… and he definitely couldn't fathom thinking about having to leave his brother for a new life. As a fledgling vampyre.

"Mattie, I have to be going now."

"Oh!" Matthew gasped, snapped out of his daze, "Right. Time zone… day time. Uh… I'll call later if anything else weird happens. Tell Gil I say hello."

Arthur chuckled again, "Right."

"And, Artie…?"

"Yes, Matthew?"

"Keep this between us?"

"Of course." Arthur said, giving Matthew the reassurance he needed in that moment.

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><p><em>Mattie, <em>

_Puh-lease tell me that you're going to send me some more of those yummy pancakes you promised you would send me for my birthday! I know it's only _halfway_ till then… but I really can't wait. If you send them, I promise I won't seize your nether regions. Well… maybe. I cannot guarantee the inevitable._

_Love you!_

Matthew stared at the letter with a sort of nagging, sad feeling that tugged at each and every heartstring he had. He _missed_ his best friend, so much in fact, that Matthew recalled several events of which he cried. It was hard being without the only _real_ friend he'd made since practically diapers. Gilbert, amoung others (even his brother) understood Matthew to the point of no return. A year ago, before Gilbert was Marked, and shipped to the House of Night, everything was perfect, it was _normal_. They were both just normal _humans_, and Gilbert was always there whenever Matthew needed him.

Wiping a stray tear from his cheek, the blonde tucked the letter in his back pocket. He, of course, would send his friend his pancakes. Only because… it seemed to bring him what little comfort was left.

"Mattie, Mattie! Matt_ie_!" Alfred yelled.

Steam swirled out of the bathroom as the boy burst out, having pulled on his (absurdly too tight, as Gilbert would say) jeans. He was struggling to pull a _Save the Earth_ t-shirt on, while stumbling across the hallway leading to the kitchen. There, he slumped against the door, panting.

Matthew sighed, rolling his eyes, "There are no _monsters_ in your bathroom, Al."

"No! That's not it…" Alfred managed between breaths.

Matthew cocked his head to the side, having just noticed that his brother was clutching his phone in left hand. It was flipped open, and sopping wet with water.

"Then what is it?"

"Th…" he sucked in a breath, "That Braginski kid! He was Marked this morning! It's all over Facebook!"

"Wh…what?" Matthew's breath could not have left him any more than it did at that moment.

_Ivan_? _Now Ivan is a vampyre?_ The overwhelming sensation was too much, and Matthew became a little more scared than he had previously been. Did Arthur know about Ivan? The Canadian made a mental note to call him a little later.

"Aren't you two like… friends?" Alfred asked.

They _had _been, at least… before Ivan moved back to Russia with his sisters (who were also Marked).

"Mattie? Are you okay?"

Matthew shook his head, shrugged, and then shook his head a little more. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it… Although, Matthew couldn't shake the indescribable gut feeling of fear. His dream surely could have been a sign… But, kids were Marked almost all the time now. So much so, that it seemed every nine out of ten were shipped away. Pulled from their families and into a new life… One that Matthew knew he would _never get used to. _

"Y…yeah. I'm going to lie down."


End file.
